


a window grown so dark it just reflects

by elithewho



Category: Babylon Berlin (TV)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 21:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18081167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: So she was tired from working so much and sleeping so little and the muscle aches were from the broken, saggy beds she often had to sleep in. The chills that sometimes made her hands shake too much to write were from the winter bringing ice crystals to every windowpane and a grey dreariness in the sky. Nothing else. She was perfectly healthy. There was no reason at all to stop working.Charlotte gets sick and Gereon looks after her.





	a window grown so dark it just reflects

**Author's Note:**

> For Morgan, my sun and stars. All for you, bb. Thanks as always for the beta and cheerleading.
> 
> Title is taken from “In a Thicket of Body-Bent Grass" by Jessica Jacobs

Charlotte had attributed the constant weakness to lack of sleep. She was working more than ever but that shouldn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. So it was nights out when she got the chance because she thought she’d go crazy without a little dancing. And, well, she didn’t want to rely on the Jänickes’ charity forever. Surely she could find her own flat.

But that was easier thought of than done. Not many places would rent to a single woman with no children and while she was making more money than ever, she wasn’t exactly a baroness. She could get a hotel room some nights, but it was a hit to her savings that wasn’t sustainable and they always managed to treat her with suspicion and refuse to rent another night. Single women on their own just couldn’t be trusted, it would seem. Her small pool of money kept her fed and clothed, at least. And she would stop by the Jänickes' from time to time, not wanting them to feel lonely, and they would feed her and ask through sweet notes that she stay a night or two. She would decline. She wanted to take care of herself.

So she was tired from working so much and sleeping so little and the muscle aches were from the broken, saggy beds she often had to sleep in. The chills that sometimes made her hands shake too much to write were from the winter bringing ice crystals to every windowpane and a grey dreariness in the sky. Nothing else. She was perfectly healthy. There was no reason at all to stop working.

“Charlotte, you don’t look well.”

Gereon was standing over her. Charlotte hadn’t been sleeping—she was thinking. With her eyes closed, slumped over her desk. She sat up straight, neck cracking painfully. “I’m fine,” she muttered, summoning a tight smile.

"You looked flushed,” he said, eyes huge with concern.

“I’m fine,” she said again, firmly. Or at least she was trying for firm. Her words sounded brittle even to herself.

She went to stand, avoiding Gereon’s knit brow with determination, but her knees wobbled. She grabbed for the edge of the desk, but even as she did so the sounds seemed fade around her. Like an air bubble closing in, or a radio being tuned to a dead station. At the same moment, her vision went white, static clouding over her eyes.

The world didn’t tip around her. Charlotte woke up slowly, not comprehending what had happened. She couldn’t move or speak, and the voices around her sounded muffled. Gereon’s face floated above her and beyond him she could see Gräf and other familiar faces. They were all speaking, words stumbling incoherently over each other. But seconds passed and the world came into sharper focus.

“Charlotte? Charlotte, can you hear me?” That was Gereon and it came to her that she was lying flat on her back, looking up at him. He was cradling her head with one hand, the other touching her cheek. “Move back! Give her space!”

It took a few seconds for Charlotte to summon the capacity for speech. “What happened...” was all she could murmur and she saw something like relief flicker across Gereon’s face.

“You’re burning up,” he said by way of explanation. “How long have you been sick?”

That was a question too complex for Charlotte to answer in her present state. Her head felt stuffed like the inside of a cushion.

Several hands pulled her up into a sitting position even as several voices asked if she could stand. Charlotte nodded feebly, asking her legs to support her despite how they answered again with that pronounced wobble. Gereon’s arm remained under her elbow and she had no choice but to lean into him.

“Miss Ritter –”

Standing up had been a mistake. Her head was pounding, nausea making her vision blur and within seconds she was doubled over, retching. Nothing much came out, but her body was wracked by the pain of it. The humiliation.

Gereon hadn’t left her side. He produced a handkerchief from somewhere, pressed it into her hand. Feebly, she wiped her mouth, wishing very much that Gräf and the others would go away. Their concerned questions crowded her, pecking at her like so many chickens.

“Gentlemen,” she heard Gereon mutter and many of the crowd backed away.

Charlotte was grateful, but she could still hardly stand on her own. The world tilted again, her feet leaving the ground, but this time it was only Gereon lifting her into his arms like he had once upon a time by a lake. She didn’t have it in her to protest.

The rocking movement did little to help her nausea, but it was better than continuing to try to stand. Her legs were too heavy, her hands tingled with pins and needles. She tucked her face nearer to his chest to lessen the sense of motion sickness. He was very warm, his heart beating fast against her cheek.

“Where are you taking me?” she managed to ask, watching the familiar rooms pass from this new, unsettling angle.

“Home,” he said simply and Charlotte hummed into his waistcoat.

“Don’t have one.”

She thought she heard something catch in his throat, but when he spoke, he sounded quite normal. “Then I'll take you to mine.”

Charlotte had the urge to protest that. But she couldn’t summon the words anymore. The rocking of his stride had taken on a soothing rhythm. She closed her eyes.

 

That ceiling wasn’t her ceiling. The old familiar one with the cracks and discoloured wood. She’d thought she’d get used to seeing new and unfamiliar ceilings upon waking, but they still filled her with a brief moment of panic.

Everything else was wrong too. The blankets were too heavy, too hot. So heavy she could hardly move them. And though she felt overheated, damp with it, she shook and shivered uncontrollably.

“She’s coming 'round. Can you hear me, miss?”

A light shone in her eye, so bright that she flinched.

“Pupils dilate. That’s a good sign.”

Charlotte could only mumble her confusion. She shut her eyes tightly, the sounds around her reverberating painfully, bright spots of white remaining where the light had shone moments before. It was easier to let darkness wrap around her.

Not so easy were the dreams. They’d be so real that Charlotte wasn’t always sure they were dreams.

“There, there, Lottchen...” her mother would coo, and Charlotte would reach out, needing to hold her, but she’d only be smoke. Breaking apart into nothing as soon as she touched her. But crying was painful, ripping apart her sore chest with every sob.

Someone’s hand brushed hair off her forehead and she could swear she could hear her mother, despairing over the state of her hair yet again.

“Too fluffy, I know,” she mumbled, ashamed just as much as she had been back then.

There’d be the press of a cool, damp cloth sometimes. Her face so shockingly hot that she’d peel her cheek away from the pillow and leave a spot of dampness. Sometimes she’d be held in a sitting position, cold water dribbled down her throat or a spoon bearing hot broth nudged against her lips. _Gereon._

The feeling was very much like being back in that lake. Opening her mouth to scream and feeling all the water rush in. Lake water tasting of mud and pond scum, so cold it made her bones ache. It had filled her lungs for so long sometimes she thought she’d wake up and still be there, under the water, Gereon’s hands scrambling at her trapped arm. Useless.

If she woke up screaming, it didn’t feel like waking. Consciousness was just another dream state, a much more acutely painful one, where light was too bright and every sensation painful.

Until she woke up and found herself not at the bottom of the lake or in her mother’s deathbed, but one entirely unfamiliar. Her mind felt clear enough that she could wonder where she was and then recall how she had fainted at the station and Gereon had caught her.

Her neck was so stiff she could hardly turn it, every limb weak as a newborn colt's as it tried to stand. But there, beside the bed in an armchair, was Gereon, fast asleep. Hunched over, chin on his chest along with an unfolded newspaper, looking almost as bad she felt. Hair disheveled, jaw unshaven, his customary dark circles threatening to take over the rest of his face.

He looked so tired, Charlotte had no intention of rousing him, but her movements and the weak cough that rattled her chest did the job for her. Gereon woke with a startled grunt and shot up, his crumpled newspaper shoved aside as he lurched towards her on the bed.

“Charlotte,” he said in a rush. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” she croaked, her voice barely above a feeble whisper.

He lay a hand on her forehead and it didn’t feel as shockingly cold as before. “I think your fever broke,” he said, sounding relieved.

“You brought me to your flat,” she stated.

Gereon looked down at her, brows knit together. “You said –"

“Yes, I remember now,” she cut him off, embarrassed. For needing all this extra attention. She was in his bed, where did he sleep?

But she didn’t voice her mortification because Gereon was still concerned, blue eyes brimming with worry.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her sincere moment interrupted by another cough.

“Water?” he said quickly and she nodded.

As if to punctuate her humiliation, Gereon had to help her sit up. But the water was deliciously cool, a balm on her sore throat. She gulped it down greedily, trying to ignore how Gereon continued to hover as though she were about to keel over again.

“How long has it been?” she asked. So stiff, and she'd dreamt for so long; her awareness of the days passing had dribbled away.

“Two days,” he said. “I had a doctor come see you and –"

“You’ve been looking after me,” she croaked, feeling much more tender towards him now. At the same moment, she realized she was only wearing her undergarments and a man’s pajama top. Gereon’s, presumably. She wasn’t one to blush normally, but she hoped that the remnants of her fever were still colouring her face.

“You need your rest,” he said firmly and she hated to agree. Even sitting up seemed to leech away at her meager store of energy.

“I’ll be out of your hair in no time,” she mumbled, head hitting the pillow like it was full of bricks.

“Hush,” he muttered, pulling the blanket up to her chin. He left her alone, shutting the door softly.

The day outside was bright, full of sharp sunshine that left blocks of bright light on the bedcovers. But the windowpane was clearly frosted in ice, delicate swirls that Charlotte could make out even from the bed. It must be freezing out, but the radiator hissed, filling the room with that warm, toasted smell she associated with public buildings. Her family’s flat had always been heated with wood fire more often than not. What a luxury it was to fall asleep in such a warm room. But now that she was less delirious with fever, the bed felt too big, too lonely. She missed falling asleep with Toni beside her and she felt a pang in her heart for her sister. She needed to see her again.

Bitter memories followed her into sleep and her dreams were not remotely pleasant. They might never be again.

 

The weakness was the worst part. Gereon had brought her solid food at last, sweet buns with marmalade and hot chocolate thick enough to dip her bread in. The sort of breakfast she would only have on Christmas morning in her childhood.

“You don’t have to wait on me,” she said sheepishly as he served her breakfast on a tray.

“I don’t mind,” he said and she might have believed him, he sounded so sincere.

“Where did you sleep?” she asked, hand shaking as she lifted it to eat.

“On the couch."

She stared at him. “That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

The small smile he gave her was almost charming, if Charlotte were capable of being charmed. Luckily she wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he said, clearing up the remains of her breakfast without so much as a sigh.

With him gone, Charlotte got up. Her legs trembled, aching in places where she hadn’t moved them in too long. She was a little fawn just learning how to walk and she resented it. Being this ill wasn’t fair.

She managed to find her clothes folded neatly on the nearby dresser. Her hands shook as she pulled off Gereon’s pajama top and tried and failed to put her trousers on.

There was a knock on the door and Charlotte sat down on the chest at the end of the bed, overexerted by the simple act of getting dressed and supremely annoyed by it all. With no response, Gereon entered.

“What are you doing up?” he said, sounding almost angry.

“I should get going.” Stupid. She couldn’t even get dressed.

“But you’re not well,” he said. Exasperated, as though she were doing something mildly illegal in order to crack their case.

“I’ve been here long enough,” she said, hating the slightly pleading whine that threatened to overtake the croak that was still her speaking voice.

“Don’t be foolish,” he said, and Charlotte felt her hackles rise.

“I’m not a child!” she snapped. “I can make my own decisions!”

Gereon’s jaw tightened. But his anger was quick to deflate and he was curiously not looking at her. Charlotte realized she was only in her brassiere and tap pants. She wanted to roll her eyes.

"You’re ill, just let yourself recover.”

Granted, she was breathing hard, but when she stood up, the room spun alarmingly as her vision went spotty.

“Charlotte,” said Gereon softly. He was at her side, holding her up firmly by the elbow.

“Fine,” she mumbled, defeated by her own infirmity.

He guided her back to the bed, but the feel of those now familiar sheets repelled her. She’d been marinating in her own feverish sweat for days. Gereon’s jaw was smooth again, darkened only by the blueish ghost of stubble under the skin. This close, his spicy aftershave filled her nostrils and she longed to be clean again.

“Ugh, I'm filthy,” she grumbled, fingers combing through her uncomfortably greasy hair.

“I can draw you a bath,” Gereon said and Charlotte nodded without thinking.

Breakfast in bed and now she was being drawn a bath. It was like being a Prussian princess, complete with doting footman. It was so ridiculous, Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh a little, wheezing as she did.

Gereon’s small bathroom filled with hot steam, air heavy as the inside of a greenhouse. He left her a towel on the sideboard and Charlotte was given only the task of undressing and getting in the tub. Easy enough in theory. She needed to brace herself on the side of the tub as she eased in, arms shaking the entire time. But the water was so hot and lovely that she actually groaned as she slid in.

A private bath in a private home with no bathhouse matron pounding on the door when her time was up; it was deliciously luxurious. She just lay there a moment, allowing the steam to rise around her, the hot water soothing her aching muscles. The soap was in reach and she fully intended to lather up before the water cooled, but she felt too comfortable, head tipped against the lip of the tub, swathed in comforting warmth. It was amazing how she felt ready to fall asleep again when she’d been sleeping for days. But she couldn’t here, it would be a shame to waste such a lovely bath.

That was her last thought before waking up to the sound of her name and a nudge on her shoulder. She sat up, wincing at the pain in her neck that had pressed on the edge of the bathtub for who knew how long. The water she sat in was lukewarm and sitting up sent a wave of cool air over her arms and chest. She shivered, goosebumps raising her flesh and nipples tightening unpleasantly.

“You were in here for so long, I was worried,” Gereon said.

“Sorry,” she muttered, a rush of embarrassment flooding through her, but Gereon only placed a towel over her shaking shoulders and helped her stand.

Slowly, cautiously, she stepped out of the tub and he covered her shivering nakedness with his robe. Charlotte sat heavily on the sideboard, feeling miserable.

“I wasted it,” she said in a small voice as Gereon unplugged the tub, all that once fantastically hot and clean water swirling away.

“It’s OK,” he said. “I’ll run a fresh one.”

How silly, to feel grateful for that. She watched him kneel in the puddles she had dripped on the floor, apparently unconcerned for his trouser legs. He was only in his waistcoat, shirtsleeves rolled up, collar unbuttoned. She could see his suspenders as he leaned over to test the temperature of the water that refilled the tub. He turned back to her, locks of hair disturbed from his usual well-combed style, sticking to his forehead in the humidity.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he said, eyes downcast. “In case you –"

“Better if you do,” she said with a sigh, standing up unsteadily and dropping his robe. She supposed it could have been the heat building in the small room that made his cheeks pink.

Back in the wonderfully hot tub, Charlotte reached for the soap with a trembling hand. The steam wasn’t helping, making her lightheaded.

“May I?” Gereon muttered and Charlotte soon found herself luxuriating with Gereon sitting on the tub’s edge, washing her hair.

It felt good to have the filth washed off her but even better to have Gereon’s fingers work against her scalp. It was sweet, gentle, and more intimate than letting him see her naked which seemed to have so embarrassed him.

“Don’t fall asleep again,” he said, and Charlotte cracked open an eye to look at him. It was so strange seeing him there, suds on his hands up to the wrist, flecks of soapy water on his waistcoat, that she couldn’t help but giggle. “What?” he said with vague concern.

“Nothing. I think I'm clean now.”

She would have loved to let him keep working his strong hands through her hair, massaging her scalp until the water got cold again. If she were in a different mood, she may have asked him to join her in the tub. He was small enough to fit. Instead, she dunked her head one last time to clear the suds and allowed Gereon to help her climb out.

There was a clean pair of his pajamas on the bed when he left her alone to dress. The bedsheets too had been stripped and replaced with fresh ones. It wasn’t so bad climbing back in.

 

“You’re not at work.”

Spending most of every day sleeping left Charlotte disoriented every time she woke. But she had more strength every time and was feeling rather cramped spending every moment in that room.

“It’s Saturday,” Gereon informed her from the couch where he was reading the paper.

Charlotte shrugged, his pajama top big enough that it slid off her shoulder. The cuffs of the pants dragged under her heels.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, sitting up, and she nodded.

“I can’t remember ever being that sick,” she admitted, joining him on the couch.

“You didn’t take proper care of yourself,” he said and Charlotte really did roll her eyes at that. “You _couldn’t,”_ he amended. “If you need a loan –”

“I’m fine,” she said, cutting him off. She didn’t need to be more indebted to him. “Read me something,” she said, nodding to his newspaper.

His lips twitched into that sweet smile again. Charlotte closed her eyes to block it out. His voice was soothing, washing over her like bathwater. She couldn’t really pay attention to the words, dry recitation of the news as they were, but it was relaxing all the same. Her head lolled back, her eyes closed; it was easy to drift off.

Charlotte woke with her cheek pressed against warm fabric. After a moment, she realized it was Gereon’s waistcoat. She was curled up by his side, feet tucked beneath her, head laid on his chest. From the gentle rise and fall of her pillow, he was asleep too, his arm thrown over her shoulder. She raised her head minutely, took in his face gone slack and peaceful in sleep, the pale sandpaper of his stubbled cheek, the vulnerability of his exposed throat. She didn’t want to move, warm and comfortable as she was. He smelled nice, sharp with aftershave and faint traces of soap and smoky tobacco. It struck her that he shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch every night when there was a perfectly good bed that could fit both of them.

But their accidental nap couldn’t last. Gereon woke and Charlotte pretended she hadn’t been staring at him in his sleep. She sat up, removing herself reluctantly from his lovely warmth. Gereon yawned and rubbed his face with one hand.

“Can you do me a favour?” she asked in a small voice despite feeling bold enough to make more requests.

“Of course,” he said, as if he didn’t even need to consider it.

“My sister, Toni – could you check on her? I haven’t seen her since I got so sick, I just want to make sure she’s OK. If you don’t mind.”

Gereon gave her a warm smile and her heart constricted. Only a little. “I don't mind at all.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile back.

With Gereon’s flat to herself and feeling better than she had in ages, Charlotte took it upon herself to poke around. He didn’t have much, she knew he’d only just got the place. A one-bedroom flat, smaller than the hotel room he’d been renting. Just enough space for a bachelor. Charlotte supposed his sister-in-law wasn’t in Berlin any longer. She lied to herself that she wasn’t pleased by the thought.

It was less than an hour later when Gereon returned, and he wasn’t alone.

“Toni!” Charlotte exclaimed, dropping the framed picture she was about to pretend she hadn’t been looking at.

Her little sister was smiling ear to ear, red hair in two braids as usual. Charlotte hugged her tight, tears pricking her eyes without her consent. She swallowed them down and cupped Toni’s face, kissing each cheek.

“Mr. Rath said you were sick,” she said and Charlotte nodded.

“I’m better now.”

“He bought me chocolate,” Toni said, holding up an expensive-looking chocolate bar. She had already peeled back the gold foil to take a bite.

“Thank you,” Charlotte muttered, catching Gereon’s eye. He nodded, smiling broadly. How nice it looked, how it transformed his face.

Charlotte sat next to Toni on the couch, holding her hand while she enjoyed her chocolate, peppering her with questions. Making sure she was still going to school and not skipping it to work. She only wished she could take her away from Erich and Ilse. They could make their own life together.

Gereon hung around, asking Toni questions about school, making her laugh. Charlotte didn’t know why it surprised her that he seemed so at ease with children. Maybe she still half expected every man to be like Erich, deep down anyway.

At dinnertime, Gereon went out to get them food. They ate dampfnudel with cabbage and potato soup, and Charlotte didn’t want to see Toni leave. But it wasn’t her flat. And Ilse would no doubt come looking for her.

“Please don’t forget about school,” Charlotte muttered into her hair, hugging her tight. “Come to me if anything happens. If Erich –” she couldn’t finish the thought.

Toni only nodded, promising not to skip too many days in favour of work. But Charlotte knew she was thinking of the benefit of bringing more money home when they so sorely needed it.

Later, Gereon found her curled up in his bed. Covertly, she wiped her cheeks, very intent on pretending she hadn’t been crying.

“Thank you for bringing her here,” she mumbled.

“She’s a good kid,” he said and Charlotte lifted her head to smile at him.

“I’m feeling much better. I can leave in the morning.”

“Please don’t.”

He said it so softly, so sincerely that Charlotte could only reply, “OK.”

Gereon turned to leave but Charlotte didn’t want him too. Not yet.

“Don’t be silly, you can’t keep sleeping on the couch. This is your bed.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Saint Gereon,” she said with a small laugh. “It isn’t the Middle Ages anymore, no need to martyr yourself for me.”

In the end, Gereon didn’t want to face the couch again. Charlotte wore his pajama top while he had the bottoms and an undershirt. His hair was already tousled when he lay next to her, switching off the light.

“Night, Charlotte.”

“Good night.”

The bed which had seemed so big and empty to Charlotte when it was only her sleeping in it, exerted a kind of magnetic power over them. Maybe it was the cold that still seeped into the room despite the radiator, but Charlotte woke several times in the night to find herself tangled in Gereon’s arms. But he was warm as a hot stone in the sun and Charlotte did not want to disentangle herself.

That was still the case in the morning, as Charlotte woke to the cold winter sun on her face. Gereon was curled around her, arm tossed over her body, apparently still asleep. He was breathing deeply, warm as a furnace, morning hard-on pressed against the small of her back.

She didn’t mind. Men couldn’t help what their bodies did in their sleep. She certainly didn’t want to push him away, not when it was so lovely and warm in his arms, his heart beating steadily against her back, just out of rhythm with her own.

But alas, Gereon woke up. Slowly at first and still half asleep, he pulled her closer, snuffling a little like a dog asking for pets. Charlotte couldn’t help but enjoy the cuddle, but all too soon he was rolling away. Her first instinct was to tease him for getting hard, but she caught sight of his face. He looked mortified.

“Sorry,” he muttered, standing up hastily and heading for the bathroom.

Well, she couldn’t tease him now, not if he was going to be sensitive about it. Still, it was better than him acting like a pig, “jokingly” asking her to take care of it for him. Gereon always seemed to find odd ways to surprise her.

And after that neither of them mentioned it. Charlotte was feeling better than ever and she even managed to put on real clothes.

“It’s Sunday,” Gereon informed her unnecessarily. He was dressed smartly, hair neatly combed. “I need - I'm going to Mass.”

“That’s fine."

The look he gave her felt somehow significant. In his small sitting room, Gereon turned his hat in his hands over and over before putting it on. His cologne filled her nostrils, sweet and sharp. She was seized by the desire to kiss him goodbye.

With Gereon gone, she made breakfast for herself. Eggs and sausage with toast. Lots of butter. Gereon had given her permission to eat whatever she liked and she could finally indulge now that her appetite was back. Afterwards she had a smoke on the balcony, coughing more than usual, her lungs perhaps not entirely recovered. But she had missed that feeling, the rush of nicotine. The smell on her fingers reminded her of Gereon, how he would still smell of burning tobacco when he came to check on her in the grip of her fever. She stubbed out the cigarette with more force than she intended.

She had her energy back and that made the flat feel small and cramped. Gereon had left her a spare key and she went out for a walk despite the cold. The streets were empty although it was Sunday and it wasn’t hard to see why. Her breath hung in the air and she shivered even bundled up in her coat. But it felt good to stretch her legs after being bedridden for so long. After a while, though, her nose and the tips of her ears hurt from the chill and her ill-used legs were aching.

When she returned to Gereon’s flat, he was back from Mass. He looked shaken when he saw her, like he was relieved she was there at all.

“I didn’t know where you went,” he said peevishly.

“I went for a walk.”

“It’s freezing out.”

“I’ve been cooped up for days.” Her tone was clipped. What right did he have to be annoyed with her? She could leave if she wanted to. But his shoulders dropped, tense as they were.

“Of course. I was just –”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows as he faltered.

“I was worried.”

She shrugged off her coat. To her horror, she was still shivering.

“Charlotte –”

“I didn’t ask you to be my nursemaid!” Immediately regretted it for the wounded look in his eyes.

“No. No you didn’t,” he agreed, turning away.

She wanted to grab his arm and force him back around. Instead, she went to sit down by the radiator to thaw her ice-cold hands.

"I _am_ grateful,” she said in a small voice. “But I’m not used to being – being someone’s charity case.”

Gereon approached her slowly as if fearful she would shout at him again. He took one of her frozen hands in his comparatively warmer one. “That’s not how I think of you,” he said softly and Charlotte wanted to ask what he thought she was then. But she couldn’t speak, not with him holding her cold hands between his, lending her his warmth.

“How was Mass?” she ventured awkwardly.

“It was good,” he said with a chuckle.

 

The rest of the day was spent inside where it was warm. They had hot chocolate and the radio for company and it was a sort of quiet contentment that Charlotte had rarely known.

“I’ll go back to work tomorrow,” she announced after they had eaten dinner.

“Are you sure?” said Gereon, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

“Yes, I feel fantastic,” Charlotte said, although perhaps she was still a little unsteady. But she couldn’t stay an invalid forever.

The radio crackled and she sighed.

“I haven’t been dancing in ages. It feels like years.”

“We can dance here,” Gereon said and Charlotte laughed. “Really.” He got up, tuned the radio to a station with music. It wasn’t really the type she’d usually dance to, but it was music. She was still laughing when he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll be gentle, not like last time,” he muttered and she had to admit she wasn’t up for the vigorous sort of fun they’d had at Holländer.

Still, she swayed to the music in his arms, letting him lead for once. The low static of the radio made it feel even more intimate, like they were the last two people on Earth. Back and forth, side to side, Gereon’s hand warm on the small of her back. She let her head rest on his shoulder after a while, comforted by his familiar scent. She could have melted into him, his breath warming her cheek.

But the program ended, the music fading into white noise. They broke apart and Charlotte felt his cheek accidentally brush hers, a rough scrub of stubble. She desperately wanted to kiss him, but didn’t. She never would have dreamed of being so coy, but there was something like a soap bubble between them. Ever-present, unspoken, so delicate it would pop at the slightest pressure. She didn’t want to destroy something that fragile.

They went to bed that night as though they had always done it, Charlotte on one side and Gereon on the other. Charlotte wore only her slip and she shivered under the blankets. Gereon was close enough to touch and she knew he’d be toasty, throwing off heat like a stove, but she let him be.

Her sleeping self wasn’t so cautious. She woke up snuggled under his arm, cocooned in his exquisite warmth. She hoped he wouldn’t pull away.

When he began to shift, she stiffened, praying he wouldn’t try to slip away when she was so comfortable.

“What time is it?” she mumbled and she heard him fumble for his watch.

“Five,” he breathed and she snuggled closer, pressing her body fully against his.

“Not time to get up then.”

But she could sense he was trying to find some way to get up and she thought she knew why. She hooked her leg over him and he grunted, body going rigid as though he’d been punched.

“It’s OK,” she whispered into his skin. “Go back to sleep.”

“Can’t,” he replied, voice tight. Her thigh shifted, brushing over his erection and he let out a broken moan.

“Let me help,” she murmured, hand drifting down his front.

“Charlotte!” he gasped in alarm as her hand slipped down the front of his pajama bottoms.

“Shh, you can go to sleep after.”

She stroked his cock firmly as he clutched at her, one hand cupping her shoulder, squeezing in time with her hand on him. His breathing came sharp and fast, sharp gasps and half-swallowed moans. The closer he got, the more his hips rose slightly to meet her hand, and when he was on the edge she could feel his body tighten, his hand on her shoulder sliding down to cup the curve of her waist.

“Lotte –” he gasped, emptying onto her hand.

“There,” she breathed, squeezing her own thighs together to relieve the tension that had built up there. “Now you can sleep.” She wiped her hand clean on the bedspread and tugged up his sleep pants.

“Can’t,” he breathed, harder than before, and his cheek brushed hers as he turned his head. His face was so warm. In the dim half-light, his eyes glittered.

Charlotte had to laugh. “I’m not –”

Gereon cut her off with a kiss. Hard and swearing, he moaned into her mouth. Heat seared between her thighs, nipples hardened as his mouth brushed down her neck. His hand nudged the bottom of her slip, pulling it up. Her breath hitched as she lay back, parting her legs for him. His fingers found her wet, slippery. She moaned, head thrown back. But he wasn’t content to just touch her. Cool air crept over her through silk as he tugged aside the blankets to duck his head between her spread legs. His tongue was hot and sudden and she screamed a little, muffling it with a fist. Charlotte arched her back at the intensity of the pleasure, thighs clenching around his head as he licked at her. It didn’t take much for her to come, as though she’d been waiting for days.

Afterwards, Gereon collapsed beside her, panting. He tugged the blanket back up to cover them both, intense heat surrounding her.

“Now we can both sleep,” he said in her ear and she laughed.

 

It turned out neither of them could make it into work that morning. They stayed in bed late into the day and then were too tired to get up. The sun rose, pouring pale light into the room. In the daylight, Charlotte could appreciate Gereon’s expression when he looked at her. Very delicate, as though even a hard look might break her. The light made his eyes very blue, the hair flopping on his forehead took years off him. Charlotte cupped his face fondly, rubbing his stubble with her knuckles.

“Are you hungry?” she murmured and he nodded, ducking his head to nuzzle her neck one more time.

Once they were properly dressed, they made breakfast together. A very late breakfast. Charlotte fried up bratwurst while Gereon gathered cheese and bread and marmalade.

“I think it’s getting warmer,” he said over their food.

“Finally.” There was a silence as Charlotte contemplated her coffee. Cream and sugar were usually luxuries for her. “I should –” she started to say just as Gereon began to speak.

“Sorry,” he muttered sheepishly and Charlotte smirked.

“Go on.”

“I can help you look for your own place,” he said, with forced casualness. “I know you don’t want a loan, but if you were only a few marks short I could –” He faltered, looking down at his breakfast.

Charlotte nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. That would be nice. I would appreciate that.”

Gereon smiled, but his eyes still looked pained. He reached out to touch her hand. “Or,” he said in a rush. “Or you could just stay here for a little longer. Just until you’re feeling 100% better.”

Charlotte's face stretched into a wide grin, the kind that threatened to split her cheeks. “Or I could do that. Yeah.”


End file.
